Descent
by TheFictionalMe
Summary: Nothing in Malia's life has ever been easy, and learning to be human again and all of the emotions that come with it have been no exception. So of course the moment she finally realizes that she's in love with Scott...is the same moment he's bleeding out in her arms. Scalia/Scolia. Post 6A, 6B AU. H/C, Angst.
1. Chapter 1

**GUYS. I was** _ **shook**_ **by last week's ep 6x13. Call me sadistic but I loved all the hurt Scott (with worried Malia of course). Hurt/comfort is my JAM and it brought on allll the feels!**

 **So, I actually wrote this right after 6A with hopes that Scalia would become canon. And then they** _ **did**_ **. Yasss!**

 **This was intended as a prologue for longer fic that I never finished...but after this last ep I'm wondering if Jeff Davis has been spying on me because the similarities between what I wrote and what happened in After Images are So. Dang. Similar. Even some of the dialogue! (Which is sort of amazing actually). So I'm sharing it with you all now as a kind-of episode tag to 6x13.**

 **And thanks to everyone who reviewed or hell even read my other Scalia fic, Recalibrate. Means more than you know!**

 **ANGST ahead. Open-ended one-shot for now.**

 **Fictional**

* * *

"Scott, stay awake! You have to stay awake!"

Malia had never felt more desperation in her entire life.

She was losing him.

With each second that he wasn't healing, with each beat of his heart slowing down, with each drop of blood pumping out of his body at an alarming rate...he was leaving her.

 _I can't...I can't lose him...not now..._

"I-it's okay..." Scott rasped out weakly, before he was wracked by another wet cough, more blood filling his mouth. "...Malia...it's okay."

"Okay?! No, no, no, this is _not_ okay," Malia choked out in a mixture of anger and fear, her eyes widening incredulously at his words, "nothing about this is okay!"

She tried to force back her tears, failing miserably as they started spilling freely down her cheeks. One fell on Scott's forehead from where he was pulled haphazardly across her lap as she desperately tried to stem the bleeding from the deep wounds in his chest.

He still wasn't healing, and they didn't know why.

And they were all alone. Help wasn't coming.

She had been trying to take his pain, which had seemed to help him at first, but it was getting harder and harder to draw it away from him now, and her heart clenched in terror when she thought about what that meant. She had heard the story of Allison before, what it would _mean_ if she couldn't take his pain anymore.

With a shaking hand, she reached over to brush the tear away from his forehead, accidentally smearing more blood across his face. "How could you even say that?"

He gave her a sad, knowing smile as he looked up at her, and she tried to ignore the black, gharish blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to reply between labored breaths.

"...b'cause...you're safe."

Safe. Safe because he had saved her, had taken a hit meant for _her._

And now Scott was dying...all because she had been too stupid to get out of the way in time.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Malia bit out, but there was no heat behind it, only guilt and fear, because it shouldn't have been him in his position right now. He shouldn't be the one bleeding out in these God forsaken tunnels.

It should be her.

Scott swallowed thickly around the blood pooling in his mouth before he gave her a strained reply. "Couldn't...let you...g't hurt."

"Damn it Scott," Malia closed her eyes painfully, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have...you don't need to protect me." She paused, staring back down at him through her tears.

"You shouldn't have saved me, because now, now you're..." she trailed off, unable to voice the words out loud, because it was too painful to admit, and she refused to believe that she was going to lose him all because he had sacrificed himself for her.

"...it's okay..." Scott weakly tried to reassure her again, because he barely had the energy to breathe now, let alone talk, but the determined look in his eyes said it all. "Worth...it."

Malia's breath hitched at his words, because she knew Scott meant it, that he'd do it over and over again, would take a hundred more hits for her, if it meant that she was safe from harm.

He was blinking heavily now, trying to stay focused on her face, but it was as if there were lead weights pulling them shut. He struggled for another minute, his gaze glassy and unfocused, before his eyes finally slipped closed.

Malia completely panicked.

"No, no, no, Scott! Open your eyes!" She shook him forcefully in her arms until he finally found the strength to look at her again.

Malia's heart nearly stopped at the look her gave her when he opened his eyes.

 _He's giving up._

"Scott, look, you can't die, okay? You can't," she demanded him, her eyes flashing blue. "Do you hear me? We need you, all of us, so you don't just get to quit, ok? You can't leave us!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead another wet cough shook his entire body as he struggled to breathe, rattling deep in his chest. When he finally caught his breath, he gave her a pained, apologetic look that completely broke her.

"...I'm s'rry," he ground out painfully, fighting against time he didn't have, "...I-I can't. Tell the o-others that...that I..."

"No, Scott, don't," Malia cut him off with a desperate shake of her head, " _please_. Don't do this. Don't make me say your goodbyes." She paused, taking in a shaky breath to grab on to her rapidly fading composure before she completely broke down.

She looked away as her voice cracked. "Please...don't leave me."

"Malia..." he whispered hoarsely, forcing her to look back at him. Using the last of his fading strength, he reached up with an unsteady hand and cupped her cheek gently, trying to wipe away her tears. She leaned into it, gripping his hand against her face in one of hers and relishing in his touch. More tears fell unabashedly down her cheeks as she looked down at him. His fingers gently brushed against her face before he finally spoke again.

"...'m glad...you're h're."

Malia had to bite back a sob at those words.

 _He's glad that it's me that's the one here with him when he's DYING._

"Oh God," she breathed, feeling as though her heart was being ripped straight out of her chest, wondering when she became this person for him, hating herself for not realizing it sooner. "Scott..."

"Malia, I...I..." he wheezed, struggling around another shaky inhale, fighting to stay with her even as his body failed him. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, she could see it clearly in his eyes, to tell her one last thing...but he couldn't.

They were out of time.

His eyes slowly slipped closed then, for good this time, his hand falling lax against her face, even as she gripped it tighter. She froze in horror, dropping his hand in shock and letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud.

"Scott, _no_ , you can't," Malia shook him desperately again, but there was no response this time. "You can't do this!"

But he remained still and motionless in her arms, not moving, not responding, not breathing now, despite her frantic pleas for him to hang on.

But it was too late, and she knew it, even though her heart wouldn't believe it, couldn't believe it.

"Scott!" she screamed, crumpling in absolute devastation, but there was no one there to answer her, only her own voice echoing back to her in the dark, empty tunnels.

"No, you can't, I can't...I can't lose you too..." she choked out another sob as she gripped him even tighter in her arms, desperately trying to keep him with her, her heart completely breaking in that moment as she suddenly realized the truth.

 _I love you..._

* * *

 **...continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well after much debate, I** _ **finally**_ **decided to continue this. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, that's why I'm back!**

 **Even though TW is over (tears), I miss these characters and especially Scalia, and I really hope this fandom doesn't die. Like I said in my other Scalia fic, if people are still reading, I will still write! Thanks for all the feedback.**

 **This will be canon from 6A, but will be an AU of 6B. There will still be parts of canon 6B here, but no fear monster, because in all honesty I think people acting violent purely out of their own hate and ignorance is something far scarier on its own.**

 **And on that note...**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Fictional**

* * *

Malia wasn't exactly sure when it happened.

But somewhere in the chaos of the Ghost Riders debacle and trying to get Stiles and the others back...something between her and Scott started to change.

It was a look here and there that lingered a little longer than usual, a touch that felt a little more meaningful, worry for each other that went beyond more than just close friends.

 _"Are you okay?" "Are you okay?"_

It was the desperation to get him out of the coolant chamber before he froze to death, or the way he wrapped a blanket around her and squeezed her close to warm her up, or their fear for each other when they almost drowned in that possessed house, or how they worked together in perfect harmony to defeat their newest enemy.

Their relationship had started to shift, seemingly without either of them knowing it, and Malia was entirely unequipped to handle it. Complicated emotions were something she was still catching up on, and she was on a learning curve when it came to dealing with something like this.

So of course, when they _did_ get Stiles back and he and Lydia had finally figured out their feelings for each other...it had only served to push her and Scott even closer together, even if it wasn't intentional. Since Stiles and Lydia were consumed in their new relationship, trying to soak up every minute together before they went away to college, it only served to push Malia and Scott into hanging out even _more_.

Malia would be lying if she didn't acknowledge that Stiles and Lydia getting together hurt a little, she was human enough to admit that. She knew that they both felt guilty about it, but they weren't trying to hurt her, which they had both made sure to tell her so many times that she seriously debated shifting into a coyote to get away before they could tell her _again_.

But in all honesty, if her friends were happy together, then she was happy for them. She knew now that she and Stiles weren't right together in the long run, and although he would always be important to her in some way, and her to him, they functioned much better together as friends, and she could accept that.

And with Kira gone and no likely return date in their lifetime, Lydia was the closest thing Malia had to a best friend, and she had come to realize how much their friendship meant to her, too.

But even with all of that, Malia couldn't help but feel incredibly lonely after graduation. The whole summer stretched ahead of them, but by the end of it, they'd all be gone. Stiles to the FBI program at George Washington, Lydia at MIT, and Scott to UC Davis.

Malia was stuck doing summer school so she could _actually_ graduate, and going to college was something she just wasn't ready to tackle. She didn't know what to do next, or what she would do when the older part of the pack left her and Beacon Hills in their rearview.

She would be left behind. Alone.

Unsuprisingly, she didn't even need to tell Scott how she was feeling, not that she was good at that anyways...because he already seemed to know.

He'd show up at her house at random times, just to see how she was doing or even to keep her company while she did the homework from summer school, occasionally helping when she'd let him. He'd text her to see how school was or if she wanted to do a night run in the preserve with him, just for fun. Scott would even have her tag along when he coached Liam on the last few things he'd need to know as the new resident protector of Beacon Hills after they all went off to college, and Malia couldn't help but give Liam her own unsolicited advice too.

It was great, and it was everything she hadn't realized she'd needed.

As the summer drew on, Malia would find her thoughts wandering to Scott when she was supposed to be focusing in class, or hurriedly checking her phone between classes or after school to see if he had called or texted, or looking forward to just seeing him, becoming unreasonably happy at whatever random plans they had made.

By the end of the summer...Malia realized that she was in trouble.

She was afraid to admit how much spending time with Scott meant to her, what _he_ might mean to her...and she wasn't ready to face it, refused to look any closer at what was staring her right in the face.

Instead, when she realized Scott would be leaving in just a few short weeks to go away to college, she decided to do the next best thing herself: run away to France.

The more distance she could put between them and these complicated human emotions, the better.

There was no way he felt the same way in return, he just had a big heart and was annoyingly good to the core, was a protective alpha and friend, and Malia was sure she was reading too much into something that wasn't there, that she was confusing his genuine kindness and care for her as something that was just _Scott_ , and nothing more.

Mysterious French men might be the only way to sort out her confusion, to get her priorities in order, and to distract herself from something that just _couldn't_ happen.

Scott was one of her best friends, the best friend of her ex-boyfriend, the ex of one of her closest friends, _and_ her Alpha.

He was amazing and kind and brave and she just needed his friendship and support...that was all.

 _They were just friends._

That's what Malia told herself as she clicked "purchase" for her plane ticket to Paris.

* * *

Time stood still. It could have been minutes or hours or days, and Malia wouldn't have been able to tell, trapped in the darkness of the tunnels.

Still clutching Scott close to her, she rocked back and forth, staring down at him through her tears.

"Scott... _no_...please..."

Just then, Malia could have sworn she heard someone screaming her name and Scott's, frantic footsteps echoing in the distance.

She shook her head to clear her jumbled thoughts, surrounded once again by the eerie, looming silence of the tunnels. She had to be hearing things, her grief and desperation causing hallucinations.

But suddenly, she heard it again, growing closer, and she was _sure_ now that someone was coming for them.

Not someone, but Stiles and Lydia, quickly drawing closer.

"Scott! Malia!" Stiles' frantic voice was unmistakable now, and Malia felt her heart lurch with the last desperate throes of hope. Help had arrived, and maybe they could get Scott out of here after all.

If they weren't already too late...

"Here!" she called out, shocked at how hoarse and weak her voice sounded, but she took a deep breath, shouting even louder. "We're over here! Hurry!"

Moments later, Stiles and Lydia rounded the corner of the adjoining tunnel on the left at full speed, heading right towards them.

Stiles skidded to a haphazard stop in front of them, quickly dropping to his knees and looking down at Scott's battered body in horror. "Oh my God," he breathed, before looking up to meet Malia's devastated expression. "What the _hell_ happened?"

Malia shook her head miserably, closing her eyes shut against the new onslaught of tears threatening to overtake her. "I don't...I don't know, we were ambushed, and he's, he's not breathing! I don't know what to do!"

Stiles' eyes widened in panic, and he forcefully jammed his fingers against Scott's neck, feeling for a pulse that wasn't there.

"No Scott, no way," he breathed, desperately shaking his head, "you are _not_ dying like this!"

"Stiles, you need to start CPR, right now!" Lydia told them urgently from where she was hovering protectively over Malia's shoulder.

Stiles nodded quickly at her, taking a breath to center himself before he gently pulled Scott's motionless form from Malia's lap. Malia was still numb and in shock, not even protesting as Stiles pried Scott away from her death grip on him.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can _do_ this," Stiles muttered to himself, laying Scott out flat against the cold, hard ground of the tunnel. Scott still didn't move, didn't respond, nothing more than a limp rag doll in their hands.

Stiles looked down at Scott, gritting his teeth in determination. "Just hold on Scotty, do you hear me?"

Malia watched in horrified fascination as Stiles laced his fingers together and placed them over the center of Scott's bloodied chest, before rapidly pumping up and down, counting to himself under his breath. "One, two, three..."

She recognized this procedure, and had the vague notion that it was something that Melissa, as a nurse, must have taught Stiles and maybe other members of the pack as well, knowing the dangerous life her son led and the life and death situations that the pack unfortunately were always walking into, knowing firsthand how it had saved Scott's life once before.

"Malia," she distantly heard Lydia next to her now, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from Scott's lifeless form as Stiles somehow tried to bring him back to life, refusing to let his best friend go without a fight. "Malia!"

She jolted at the sudden closeness as Lydia knelt next to her, her voice now loud in her ear. She turned slowly to see Lydia's worried and sympathetic gaze meeting her own.

"Malia, when Stiles tells you, you need to breathe for Scott, okay?" Lydia said gently, gripping her arm to keep Malia anchored to her, to listen to her words. Malia was silently grateful because she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, that everything was falling apart around her, that Scott was dying right in front of her and she had been useless to stop it...

"Malia!" Lydia said a little more firmly then, shaking her arm gently, bringing her back again from her spiraling thoughts. "I need you to focus right now. You need to help Stiles save Scott."

"O-okay," she responded shakily, nodding her head in affirmation. "Okay. Got it."

"Okay," Lydia let go of her arm, a grim look on her face as she stood up. "I have to go call Deaton, to tell him what happened, but there's no service down here."

"Yeah, okay," Malia nodded quickly again in understanding, knowing the urgency of the situation. "Go!"

Lydia nodded, giving one long last look at Scott as Stiles furiously continued his movements, before turning on her heel and rapidly sprinting back down the tunnels from which they had come, phone clutched desperately in her hand.

Malia turned back as Stiles finished counting. "Twenty-nine, thirty!" He looked up at Malia then, a mix of desperation and determination evident on his face. After he gave her a rushed explanation of how to tip Scott's head back and pinch his nose shut, Malia leaned down to breathe for him, giving Stiles a second to rest before he continued the chest compressions.

Malia's lips met Scott's for the first time, and it took every ounce of strength she had to choke back a sob. His lips were cold and unmoving against hers, the taste of blood plainly evident as her mouth touched his, and it just all felt so _wrong_. It was so foreign from how she had imagined it might have been to finally kiss him, not at all how it should have been, not at all how it should have happened.

 _Not like this not like this not like THIS._

She forced her breath into his mouth, desperate to keep him alive, to bring him back to her, desperately hoping that this would work.

After two breaths, she sat back, letting Stiles continue the next round of compressions. She haphazardly wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand, trying to clean away the blood and tears to no avail.

"Come on Scott, come on!" Stiles chanted frantically between counting and compressions. "Come on man, you can do this. Just breathe!"

Scott still wasn't responding, his eyes closed, his skin pale and cold, the only motion from him caused by the shaking as Stiles repeatedly brought his hands down on his chest over and over again.

"Scott, you have to fight," Malia didn't even recognize her own hoarse, pained voice as she spoke, leaning down to grip his motionless face in both of her hands. "You can't just give up!"

Still no response.

Stiles completed another round of compressions, and Malia closed her eyes painfully as she breathed for him once again, hoping against all hope that he would suddenly start breathing, would open his eyes, would somehow be okay.

They could both feel the hope rapidly fading between them, that it was already too late, that there was nothing they could do to save Scott this time, but neither of them were willing to stop. They continued CPR uselessly, unwilling to admit that maybe this was a fight that he couldn't come back from.

Stiles never faltered in his movements although he was quickly becoming exhausted, but Malia was already preparing to switch with him, because neither of them were ready to give up on Scott, because he would never give up on them.

"Breathe, Scott! You have to breathe!" Stiles' voice was strained and desperate in her ears as Malia leaned down to breathe for him once again, trying not to let the overwhelming feelings of despair and failure consume her, because they couldn't give up yet, they couldn't lose him like this...

She pulled back, her face still hovering close to his, blinking back tears. "Scott, please...come back to us..."

There was still so much she wanted to tell him, so much that she had finally realized, had finally opened her eyes and her heart to, unspoken feelings that possibly losing him now had brought crashing straight to the surface, despite her efforts to push them down.

She couldn't lose him, not now, when there were so many things left unsaid between them, so many things left undone...

Malia sat back up, as her and Stiles looked down at Scott, hoping against all hope for a miracle, that he could somehow come back from this, even if time and logic were saying otherwise.

"Damn it Scott, come on! Breathe!" Stiles shouted in manic frustration, vibrating off the close walls of the tunnel.

And against all odds, against all hope, in typical Scott fashion...he did.

To their disbelief, Scott suddenly drew in a weak, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering but not opening, his chest finally rising and falling again on its own.

Against all odds, against all hope...

 _Scott was alive._

* * *

 **More Scalia?**


	3. Chapter 3

**You beautiful people you! THANK YOU so much to SamReid, Unkown98, micolodian77, Tonyahuqt03, StarBurnedOut, Guest, Guest, Ffxo, Mason, Julka, and Fanofeverything101 for all of your reviews! Means the world.**

 **Lots of hurt!Scott and worried!Malia with some angst ahead in this chap!**

 **Fictional**

* * *

Scott knew he was dying.

It was different this time, and even as the world faded to black around him, he couldn't help but wonder at the irony of how he could _actually_ compare this to other times, because this wasn't the first time he'd been close to death.

It wasn't even the first time he'd technically been dead, for that matter.

But that had been his life, essentially, since that fateful night in the woods, and he had long ago accepted the unfairness of all that, had given up the hopes and dreams of a semi-normal life, having to face death and destruction at every turn to save everyone around him.

And he was only eighteen.

Scott wasn't afraid this time, though, as he felt the blood leaving his body, the wounds that just weren't healing. Everything was becoming blissfully numb, the pain fading away, so much so that he could just focus on Malia's worried face hovering over his, could push the fear of impending death into the back corner of his mind. It was peaceful, in a way. He wasn't afraid because she was there with him.

Malia. There was so much he wanted to say to her now, in retrospect, so much he should have told her...

He hadn't realized until now that he had even wanted to, hadn't allowed himself to think past the possibility of them being more than just close friends and allies, of being more than _pack_.

But now as he lay sprawled across her lap, bleeding out in her arms, Scott wanted to tell her how he felt, didn't want to die without her knowing what she meant to him, but his lungs were seizing up, his heart giving out, and the words just wouldn't come.

Looking up at her through his greying vision, tears streaming her beautiful face as she begged him to hold on, he thought that maybe it was better this way, that she didn't know his changing feelings for her in his final moments. Even though he knew Malia cared about him, he doubted she felt the same way as he did, and he didn't want to burden her with that kind of guilt after he was gone.

Scott was sure of one thing though...if he had to die, he was glad that she was there, and that he wasn't alone, at the end.

He didn't _want_ to die, he'd never truly wished for that, even at that hell hole motel when the Darach had gotten into his head. But if it came down to it, he'd rather it be him than _another_ one of his friends, and he had no problem with giving up his own life if it saved someone he loved.

He had no regrets about saving Malia, of pushing her out of the way of the hunter's aim although it spelled out certain death for him, and if faced with the same choice, he'd do the same thing all over again without hesitation.

She was safe, and alive, and he could die happy with that knowledge.

Scott had sort of figured at this point that he wasn't going to live a long life anyways, not with the supernatural horror show that they lived in, and he'd made his peace with that a long time ago.

Honestly, he was tired. Tired of all the fighting, of all the violence, of all the supernatural threats at every turn, of not being able to protect everyone he loved, of innocent people getting killed in the crossfire.

No, he didn't want to die...but a part of him thought that it might be easier this way. If he wasn't around, maybe the people he cared about would finally be safe, wouldn't have a perpetual target on their backs to be used against him.

Getting one last look at Malia's face and feeling grateful that at least she was the last thing he'd see, Scott's eyes slipped closed, and he knew then that this was it, that his fight was finally over.

It was funny, as his vision faded and his breathing came to a stop, his heart barely beating now, his hearing was the last thing to remain, and he could still hear Malia calling his name. She sounded far away, but he could still hear her voice, although it sounded like she was underwater now, or like she was shouting at him from the other end of the tunnels.

 _"Scott! No, you can't, I can't...I can't lose you too..."_

He wanted so badly to reassure her one more time that it would be okay, that she would be okay without him, because she was stronger than anyone he knew, more independent and determined than anyone else in the pack...but he couldn't.

He was out of time.

Scott heard her voice one last time before he faded away into oblivion, but there wasn't time for him to fully comprehend her words as she whispered them, painfully, softly near his ear, her arms tightening around him.

 _"I love you..."_

And then the world went black.

* * *

The ride to the animal clinic was a blur.

Stiles probably broke every speed and traffic law known to man on their way to the clinic, but Malia couldn't focus on that.

She only had eyes for Scott, his head cradled carefully in her lap from where he lay across the backseat of Stiles' jeep. Her eyes obsessively tracked the labored rise and fall of his chest, willing it to keep moving, for him to keep breathing, to just hold on until they could get him to Deaton.

"How is he? Is he still breathing?" Stiles asked frantically from the driver's seat as he hit the clutch, shifting the jeep into an even higher gear, the tires squealing on the pavement. He looked back over his shoulder to look at Scott's motionless form draped across her lap, causing the jeep to careen to the side.

"Stiles!" Lydia called out frantically from the passenger's seat, grabbing the wheel and pulling the jeep back onto the road sharply. Stiles wheeled back around, attention back on the road once again.

"Yeah," Malia answered quickly, trying to keep Stiles from inadvertently killing them all, but the doubt in her voice was obvious to all of them. "He's still breathing."

"Okay, okay," Stiles nodded quickly, letting out a deep breath. His eyes met Malia's seriously in the rearview mirror. "Just make sure it stays that way, alright? If he stops breathing again, you have to let me know, like, _immediately_. Like yesterday."

"I know," she replied worriedly, not even having the energy to be annoyed at Stiles, because obviously she would be the first to let them know if Scott's condition changed. She bit her lower lip as she looked back down at him, running her hand gently through his hair and brushing against his pale, clammy face. Her other hand rested gently on his bloodied chest, so she could feel the effortful movement of his breathing, could feel the sluggish movement of his heartbeat, even though she could hear it anyways. It wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough until Scott was awake again, could sit up and tell them that he was okay himself.

Malia wasn't sure she'd even believe him _then_. Not after this.

The animal clinic suddenly came into view, and Stiles skidded to a sideways stop in front of the back door, swinging open the door of the jeep before he even had it fully in stop.

Deaton came running out the back door, joining Stiles as they pulled forward the front seat, and Malia carefully maneuvered Scott into their waiting arms.

For once, Deaton let his impassive mask slip, and Malia caught sight of the worry and horror on his face as he looked at Scott before he quickly schooled his features. "Hurry, let's get him inside!"

Malia scrambled out of the backseat, and she and Lydia ran after them as they carried Scott into the clinic.

Deaton and Stiles wasted no time laying Scott flat on one of the sterile operating tables in the back room. Malia and Lydia hovered nearby, waiting for instructions.

Deaton already had on gloves, and without preamble quickly cut away the remains of Scott's tattered shirt, and Malia had to hold back the bile rising in her throat at seeing Scott's wounds on full display under the harsh, bright lights of the clinic.

They appeared worse than regular bullet wounds, which Malia had already known since he hadn't been healing in the tunnels, even though the hunters who had ambushed them had used a gun. Malia was certain now it wasn't just a regular gun, and certainly not regular bullets, not even regular wolfsbane bullets would look like _this_.

The wounds were gaping, the flesh around them charred and garish, and it appeared as though his body had tried to heal around them and failed from the uneven edges. Even upon closer inspection, it looked like his body was _still_ trying to heal, slowly, and still failing, the supernatural movements along the edges of the wounds trying to close together still evident, even in his unconscious state.

Deaton studied each wound quickly but carefully, brow furrowed in deep thought as he examined the unconscious boy on the table. "Stiles, hand me the gauze and solution from the counter," he gave out orders then, wasting no time, "Lydia, bring me the oxygen cart and a mask!"

He turned then and looked at Malia steadily, and she couldn't quite read the look on his face. "Malia, come here and hold his hand."

She swallowed thickly, nodding as she stepped close to the table, grasping his cold, clammy hand in her own and squeezing tightly.

"What, uh," she found her voice, clearing her throat to steady herself, "what is that going to do?" She gestured at their now linked hands.

Deaton gave her a grim smile. "It's going to anchor him, give him something to hold onto."

Malia didn't even have time to process his words or the underlying meaning behind it before he was taking the oxygen mask from Lydia and securely fastening it around Scott's face. He looked at the tank and quickly turned up the amount of air flowing into the face mask.

Deaton took the gauze from Stiles and some sort of solution, shaking the bottle before looking back up at Malia carefully. "Malia, this is very important, because I've never seen wounds like this, and if I don't know what Scott was hit with, then I don't know how to treat him." He paused, the heaviness of his words crushing all of them. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

Malia bit her lower lip, fighting back tears and hating herself for being so weak. She shook her head miserably. "No, I'm sorry, I don't, I don't know! I don't know what it was..."

"It's okay, just tell me what happened, alright? Maybe we can figure it out from there," Deaton said soothingly, seeing how upset she was, but there was a clear hint of urgency in his voice. "What did you see?"

"One of the hunters had some sort of gun, sort of like a rifle, but it's not like one I've ever seen, not like one of my dad's hunting rifles or shotguns," Malia shrugged helplessly. "It had two really large barrels on it, but that's...that's all I know, I'm sorry."

"It's not much, but it's something to go on," Deaton nodded at her. "Melissa and Argent are on their way as well, maybe Argent will recognize this type of weapon used against werewolves."

"Wait, so this isn't some type of wolfsbane?" Stiles asked urgently, stepping closer to the table to look down at Scott.

"Not exactly," Deaton shook his head. "I've never seen wounds like this from wolfsbane, and certainly not any that are repeatedly trying to heal and then reopening again, like this," he gestured at Scott's wounds again. "And there's no other telltale signs of wolfsbane poisoning. To be honest, I've never seen anything like this before."

"So what do we do?" Stiles bit out in worry, his arms flailing in desperation. "We have to do something!"

"We treat the symptoms we do know," Lydia cut in, laying a hand gently on Stiles' arm in an effort to keep him from going into a full-blown panic attack, which from the sounds of his harsh breathing was only seconds away. "We do whatever we can with everything we can here, until we figure out what this is." She glanced at Deaton over the table and Scott's prone form, hoping her confident facade wasn't in vain.

"Exactly," Deaton nodded in agreement with her. "His pulse is weak and his breathing is too slow and labored, but this will help," Deaton gestured at the oxygen mask, before grabbing the gauze and solution. "And I've got a solution to help speed up the healing process, although I don't know if it will counteract whatever is in his system. For now, we dress these wounds before he loses anymore blood." He frowned, looking at them all seriously. "It looks like he's already lost too much."

WIthout another word, Deaton's nimble fingers began gently but quickly cleaning Scott's wounds. They didn't look any better, and his body was still trying to heal them to no avail, but at least it felt like they were doing something to help him.

Scott remained blissfully unconscious the whole time, the slow, effortful rise and fall of his chest the only affirmation that he was still with them at all.

Malia closed her eyes, squeezing his still fingers once again and focusing in on listening to the sluggish beating of his heart, beyond grateful that it was still beating.

 _Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

Moments later, Melissa burst through the doors of the clinic, her arms full of medical supplies that were no doubt pilfered from the hospital, Argent in tow behind her with his own arms full of supplies.

"Oh my God," Melissa breathed as Scott came into view, seeing his wounds that Deaton hadn't managed to bandage yet, "what happened?" She rushed to his side, supplies tossed haphazardly on a side counter. She came to a stop next to the metal table, tenderly running a hand through his hair as she took in his battered form. Although Melissa was trying to put on her brave face and go into nurse mode, Malia didn't miss the slight tremble in her normally steady hands.

"Hunters," Stiles bit out in reply, his voice laced with both fear and fury. "It was hunters."

Malia couldn't find her voice, couldn't speak, didn't know how to put into words to Melissa that the reason that her only son was dying was because of her.

"We don't know what they used on him," Lydia spoke up then, turning towards Argent, "but it was some sort of new weapon. He's trying to heal, but he can't."

"We were hoping that you might recognize this, actually," Deaton said, arching an eyebrow at the former hunter in a hopeful look, all while his rapid movements never faltered as he continued to dress Scott's wounds. "Any idea what might have caused this?"

Argent stepped closer, carefully examining the wounds, eyes widening as he saw how bad they were, and at the obvious movements of Scott's body trying, and failing, to heal them.

He looked back up, shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry. I've never seen wounds like this before. But I can tell you that they aren't just from wolfsbane."

Deaton nodded in agreement. "No, definitely not."

"But I can find someone who does know," Argent added seriously then, giving Melissa's arm a quick squeeze of reassurance before he turned back to them. "I have an idea of who did this."

"Let me guess, some family connections?" Stiles scoffed bitterly, but the insult wasn't meant to be directed at Argent, just his anger towards whoever had done this to Scott.

Argent nodded tersely in answer. "Yes."

"Okay, well we'll need answers sooner than later, because there's only so much I can do to treat him," Deaton replied heavily. "I don't know what we're fighting against here."

"His heart rate is too slow," Melissa added worriedly, as she took Scott's pulse. "And with the way he's breathing..."

"He's strong," Deaton gently cut her off before she could start panicking too, "and he's still fighting. His body wouldn't still be trying to heal if he wasn't."

"He, uh, he stopped breathing," Stiles added hesitantly, but they all needed to know, "back in the tunnels, but uh..."

He trailed off, unable to finish, staring at Scott's motionless form on the table as the terrifying memories of earlier hit him again.

"But Stiles and Malia did CPR, and they brought him back," Lydia added, squeezing Stiles' hand tightly in reassurance, and giving Malia a quick supportive look before facing Melissa and Argent. "They saved him."

Melissa drew in a sharp breath at this knowledge, her face both a mixture of worried and grateful as she looked at Stiles and Malia. She steeled herself before she found her voice again. "Well then, it's a damn good thing that you two were there."

Malia looked away, studiously avoiding Melissa's gaze, concentrating hard on her and Scott's still linked hands. She didn't deserve gratitude, or even want it, not after what had happened. She hadn't saved him, she had almost gotten him _killed_ , because she was the one who should have been shot in the first place, but she just hadn't listened, and her poor choices had almost cost Scott his life.

And they could _still_ lose him, at that, because they didn't know what he had been shot with, or what new type poison was currently coursing through his body. She squeezed his hand tightly again, as if that would indeed be enough to anchor him there with her, wishing more than anything that he would squeeze back.

Still nothing.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Melissa said urgently then as helped Deaton clean out another wound, her years of medical training missing nothing, especially when it came to Scott. "He's not going to heal like this. We need to take him to the hospital!"

"Melissa, you know we can't," Argent shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "There's no way we could explain this, or hide the fact that his body is _visibly_ trying to heal."

"Not to mention, they won't know how to treat him either," Deaton added with a heavy sigh as they finished bandaging Scott's last wound. "They could do more harm then good if they tried to treat him with conventional medicine. Scott is better off in our care, but you know that, Melissa."

Melissa nodded slowly, pursuing her lips tightly together as she surveyed Deaton's handiwork, carefully examining the bandages covering Scott's chest and abdomen. "I know, I know, it's just..."

"We know," Argent reassured her, squeezing her shoulders tightly in a rare display of public affection between them, because things were still so new. They all understood why she wanted to take Scott there, unable to erase the familiar comfort of saving lives at her workplace, and of wanting to use modern medicine, even in the face of something supernatural.

"But we'll figure out what this is, and he'll be okay." Argent paused, looking down at Scott with an almost wistful expression. "Scott's a fighter."

No sooner than those words had left his mouth, Scott's whole body began to shake violently, his back arching up off the table as his whole body seized.

Malia stumbled back out of the way as Deaton and Melissa went into full-fledged emergency mode, and she instantly felt like a connection had been severed at the loss of contact when she dropped his hand.

"Turn him on his side!"

"Give me the 5cc syringe!"

"Take off the mask!"

"Get more solution from the counter!"

"Hold him!"

Deaton and Melissa were barking orders as the two medical professionals in charge while Argent, Stiles, and Lydia dutifully ran around the small room, doing whatever they could do to help.

Scott's wounds opened up more as he thrashed around, and a mixture of red and black blood was leaking through the freshly applied bandages. There was blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth now, too, just adding to the nightmarish picture before her.

 _I'm still gonna lose him._

Malia could hear his heartbeat skyrocketing, and she knew his body couldn't take much more, after everything he'd already been through. Scott was strong, but it was a miracle he was even still alive at all.

She collapsed against the hard brick wall in the corner, unable to move, unable to help, unable to do anything but just stare, frozen in pure horror as the others rushed to save Scott. The same feelings of helplessness and uselessness from the tunnels came rushing back.

 _This is all my fault._

And suddenly, just as quickly as it had begun, Scott's body stopped seizing, and he collapsed back against the cold metal table, bleeding sluggishly again from all of his wounds as the tremors finally came to a stop.

Deaton and Melissa frantically hurried to rebandage them all before he lost even more blood, as Argent quickly wheeled over an IV machine, and Stiles and Lydia mixed up more of the healing solution at Deaton's instruction. But Malia couldn't hear what anyone was saying, couldn't focus on their voices, falling deep down into her own lost thoughts.

All she could hear was Scott's heartbeat returning to the same weak, thready rhythm it had been at before, and she was so afraid that at any moment it was just going to _stop_ beating completely, that she just couldn't take it anymore, feeling crushed under layers of fear and guilt.

Feeling bile rising at the back of her throat, Malia stumbled unsteadily away from the wall, scrambling out of the room on shaky legs. She found her feet and started moving faster, needing to get away from the scene before her. She could hear someone calling after her, but she ignored it, unable to respond, and she burst through the doors of the clinic without a second glance behind her.

She didn't deserve to be there with Scott, to beg him to hang on again, because she was the reason he was on that table in the first place.

She reached the cool pavement of the parking lot behind the clinic before she finally stumbled, collapsing to her knees on the hard, unforgiving ground, a sick mantra chanting through her head as she thought about the dying boy she had left behind on the table.

 _I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't die I'm sorry..._

And that's when the tears came.

Malia buried her face in her hands, belatedly realizing they were still covered in Scott's blood. Her shoulders shook as everything finally sank in, barely repressed sobs escaping her mouth, her emotions going haywire in a way that she wasn't prepared to handle.

She had made many mistakes in her life, and she was well aware of that, but she had never claimed to be perfect, had barely claimed to be human since she had been turned back...

But if she lost Scott now, after everything they'd been through, she wasn't sure how she was going to survive it.

 _I'm sorry..._

* * *

 **Sorry for all the feels...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay on this one! I got a little sidetracked with my Christmas fic and tbh my muse has been wandering away lately...but here's the next chap!**

 **THANKS so much to Julka, DeathStick15, Brentinator, micolodian77, Guest, SamReid, StarBurnedOut, and Tonyahuqt03 for your great reviews last chapter! Hope you're still reading.**

 **More angst and hurt, a flashback, and a little hope to be found in this one.**

 **Fictional**

* * *

Malia didn't know how long she'd been there, collapsed in the clinic parking lot, covered in blood and tears as her fear and guilt over Scott overwhelmed all her senses, when she finally heard a gentle voice from behind.

"Malia."

She startled violently at the voice, silently cursing herself that she had let her emotions make her so weak that she hadn't even heard or sensed someone approaching, had completely let her guard down, hadn't even heard the audible opening and closing of the clinic door behind her.

Malia looked back over her shoulder, still on her knees on the hard pavement, as Lydia slowly approached her, almost like she was approaching a wounded animal.

Which in reality, wasn't too far from the truth. It was taking all over her energy not to shift and run away at the moment.

"Malia," Lydia said gently again, coming around to face her and crouching down so that they were eye level now, "come on, let's go back inside."

Malia shook her head vehemently, closing her eyes against the onslaught of tears, hating letting her friend see her like this, so broken and vulnerable. "No, I can't. I can't go back there..."

"He's still alive," Lydia told her softly but firmly, "Scott is still alive, and _trust me_ , I would know...and he's still fighting, but he needs us right now. He needs _you_."

Malia's eyes shot back open at her words, giving Lydia a pained look. "Scott doesn't need me. I'm the one who almost got him _killed_."

"Malia," Lydia sighed, looking at her sympathetically now, "you know this isn't your fault, that Scott would never blame you for this. And you helped to save his life, or have you forgotten what happened in the tunnels?"

Malia huffed at that, shakily wiping away her tears with the back of her bloodied hand, not even caring when it just served to streak Scott's blood across her face. "Lydia, of course I haven't forgotten. Scott got shot trying to protect me. He almost got himself killed because of _me_."

"You know that's not what I meant," Lydia shook her head at her in firm disagreement. "You and Stiles brought him back. You gave him something to hold onto. A reason to keep fighting."

Malia narrowed her bloodshot eyes at her in confusion, because first Deaton, and now Lydia, had alluded to her somehow _anchoring_ Scott, to giving him a reason to hold on, and she didn't understand how they could even think that she'd be that person for him.

"I just," Malia exhaled heavily, "I mean, what if, what if he doesn't heal? What if he di..."

"No," Lydia cut her off, reaching over to squeeze one of her bloodied hands, "don't even go there. We can't think that way, not if we want him to pull through this. We can't give up."

Malia bit her lower lip, looking down at the ground, unable to meet Lydia's piercing gaze anymore. "Lydia...are you having any of _those_ feeling? Do you know what's going to happen to Scott?"

Lydia was quiet for a moment, long enough that Malia looked back up at her, panic starting to bubble up in her chest. " _Lydia_."

"I don't know, for sure," Lydia finally answered with a pained sigh, holding Malia's gaze steadily as she spoke. "He's not out of danger, not yet, but he's not dying, not now, not like I felt he was _before_."

"Wait, what do you mean before?" Malia looked back at her in apprehension.

Lydia blew out a long breath, shoulders slumping slightly as she replied. "How do you think Stiles and I found you in the tunnels?"

And that all made sense, now that Malia thought about it. She hadn't really had time to process it earlier, with everything happening so fast, but she hadn't really known how Lydia and Stiles had found them. No one knew that her and Scott had been tracking a new hunter through Beacon Hills, and no one knew that she and Scott had gone after them in the tunnels.

But if Lydia had _felt_ Scott dying earlier, it all made sense how she and Stiles had found them in the tunnels when they did.

"I felt it before, what was happening to him," Lydia continued gently, with a pained look on her face, squeezing Malia's hand again. "But now, it's different."

"Different how?" Malia croaked, her voice rough from crying and trying to hold back more tears.

"I don't know," Lydia looked at a loss for words, which usually only happened when she was trying to explain her banshee feelings. "I can't describe it, really, but it's like he's not dying now, not exactly, but I can still _feel_ it, hovering nearby, like he's not quite in the clear yet. I don't know how else to explain it."

"So he's still going to die then," Malia bit out, as a single tear escaped and streaked down her cheek against her will, her heart clenching painfully. "We're still going to lose him."

"No," Lydia shook her head firmly, "no, we're not. He's fighting his way back to us, and we're not going to let him go. We're not giving up."

Malia nodded slowly, unable to speak, her emotions swirling dangerously again.

 _He's not dead...but I could still lose him anyway._

"Come on," Lydia urged her gently again, pulling Malia unsteadily back to her feet, "let's go get you cleaned up."

Malia didn't have the energy to fight her, just mindlessly letting Lydia pull her along, back into the clinic, and back towards Scott.

* * *

Malia was still in a sort-of daze as Lydia led her into the clinic bathroom, methodically putting her hands under the water and scrubbing away the blood for her.

She just stared in numb shock as the blood washed off of her skin, swirling around the drain before disappearing down with the water.

Even though her hands were clean now, she could still feel it, could still _see_ Scott's blood on them.

She didn't think she'd ever feel clean again.

Lydia was quiet as she worked to clean her up, thankfully not saying anything as she carefully wet a towel and brushed it against her face, wiping away the blood still streaked across it.

"There," she finally said with a sigh, looking back at Malia with an appraising look, "that's good enough, for now."

There wasn't much she could do about her bloodied and grime covered clothes, but at least she looked slightly less like she'd been through a war zone. Malia didn't even care enough to look at her reflection in the mirror again and see how she looked. She barely recognized the broken girl staring back at her as it was.

She just silently nodded her thanks, and Lydia smiled sympathetically, before guiding her out of the bathroom and into one of the chairs in the waiting room.

"Scott's stable, for now," Lydia said softly, sitting down next to her. "You should go see him."

Malia shook her head slowly. "I can't, Lydia. Not yet."

Her guilt and fear were still threatening to consume her, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to go see him again, feeling that he was better off in the hands of Deaton and Melissa, without her anywhere near him.

Scott was better off without her.

"Okay," Lydia sighed, patting her arm gently as she stood back up, knowing better than to push her any further. "Well, I'm going to go back in."

Malia just nodded absently, glancing up at her. "Okay."

Lydia gave her one last look, before walking away and heading back into the room where Scott and the others were.

Finally alone again, Malia slumped forwards in the chair, and buried her face in her hands.

She didn't know how to handle this, all of these emotions, and she didn't think she could ever forgive herself for this.

 _If I just would have listened..._

She distantly heard footsteps approaching then, coming closer until a person dropped heavily into the seat next to her. She didn't even have to look up this time to know who it was.

 _Stiles._

He didn't say anything at first, and his silence was unnerving, because Stiles was never _this_ quiet, and she finally looked up at him, seeing the fear and pain on his face reflected back in her own.

"Scott's okay, for now," he finally began, sounding a little uncertain, "well, not okay, exactly, but he's not..."

"Dying?" Malia bit out, and Stiles flinched at her words.

"No, he's not dying anymore, not _really_ , but he's still not healing, either," he sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair until his head hit the wall with a dull thud. "But he's still with us, and we're going to keep it that way. Argent already left to see what he could find out about what the hunters used on Scott, and Deaton and Melissa are still working on a cure."

He paused, his jaw clenching in determination. "It's not over yet."

And Malia would have believed him if she couldn't sense the fear and anxiety rolling off of him in waves, if she couldn't detect the slight tremor of doubt in his voice, but she decided not to comment on it.

She huffed out a long breath in response, leaning back in her own chair, letting her head come to rest against the wall as well. She wasn't sure how they could be so _sure_ , how Lydia and Stiles could be so confident that Scott could beat this, that he was going to pull through despite the odds.

But she belatedly realized that they were just desperately holding onto hope, because they would break without it, and then Scott would definitely be lost to them all.

She desperately wished she could find that same hope as well, but all she felt was like she was being pulled down into a black hole of despair, because they still didn't know, _not really_ , if Scott was going to make it.

They sat in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, both staring blankly at the door separating them from Scott and the others, before Stiles finally spoke again.

"Malia," his voice was hoarse, quiet, as he slowly turned his head back towards her, "...tell me what happened."

Malia glanced over at him, sighing heavily, because he deserved to know, they all needed to know what had happened.

"We were in the tunnels, following what we thought was a new hunter, but it was a set-up," her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she looked down, unable to meet his questioning gaze. "I, uh, got impatient, and I ran ahead, even though Scott said it wasn't a good idea, that we should wait, that we should stick together..."

She paused, taking in a shaky breath as she continued. "And when I came around the corner, there they were. Ten of them, maybe more." She shook her head angrily at herself. "I don't know how I didn't sense them, didn't even hear their heartbeats, it was like they were masking them, somehow. I don't know."

Stiles leaned in closer, gently encouraging her to continue, being uncharacteristically patient. "And then what happened?"

"One of the hunters had _that_ gun, and it was aimed right at my heart, and there was no where to go, no way that I could get out of the way in time..." Malia trailed off, a bitter look on her face.

"And Scott pushed you out of the way...didn't he?" Stiles interjected softly, but it wasn't an accusation, it was a statement, because he _knew_ Scott that well, knew that Scott wouldn't have hesitated to put his own life in danger, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

Malia nodded slowly, looking up to meet his gaze again, a lone tear escaping again and rolling down her cheek. "Yeah, he did."

She sniffed miserably, looking down in shame, the memories of earlier overwhelming her as they all came flooding back.

"He saved my life."

* * *

" _Malia_ , _are you sure?" Scott looked back at her, surprise etched on his face. "Are you sure it was a hunter?"_

 _"Yes, I'm sure," Malia huffed in exasperation, although in all honesty she wasn't_ completely _sure, but she knew what she had seen. "This person was a hunter, although not a very good one, because that's how I saw them tracking me in the first place."_

 _"Yeah, it's just," he frowned in concern, "we haven't had hunters in Beacon Hills in a while, not since..."_

 _"Gerard, and that whole mess," Malia interjected, because she had heard the story of the Argents before and the havoc they had wreaked on Beacon Hills, especially against Scott and the Hale family (her family), "but this hunter seemed new. Definitely an amateur at best. He didn't have a clue what he was doing."_

 _"Okay, then we better go check it out," Scott nodded firmly, believing in what she had seen, and she felt her heart flutter with pride that he trusted her that much, trusted her over his initial doubts._

 _"Wait, shouldn't we call Stiles and Lydia?" Malia asked suddenly, as Scott was pulling on his jacket._

 _He hesitated, reaching for the door handle and shaking his head in response. "Stiles leaves for the FBI tomorrow, and this is his and Lydia's last night together here in Beacon Hills."_

 _"So you don't want to interrupt, got it," she nodded in understanding, belatedly remembering that Stiles was leaving so early. Stiles was leaving a few weeks ahead of the rest of them for college, to start his internship with the FBI before he started classes at George Washington._

 _"And Liam, Mason, and Corey are still out of town for that pre-season lacrosse scrimmage," Scott sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "so they're out, too."_

 _"I mean, it's just one hunter, we can handle this on our own," Malia added helpfully. "We don't even need Liam and Mason for this one."_

 _"Yeah, it's never that simple though," he muttered under his breath as they stepped out onto his front porch, shutting the door behind them._

 _"Come on, Scott," Malia nudged his shoulder playfully, smirking at him, "we make a pretty good team. We got this."_

 _They had made an impressive team, in all honesty, during the whole Ghost Riders fiasco and getting Stiles back, and she was making sure to remind Scott of that now. One newbie hunter would be nothing for them._

 _He laughed, shaking his head at her. "Yeah, I guess we do." He walked down the steps of the porch, waiting for Malia to catch up, and he flashed her a reassuring smile._

 _"Come on, show me where you last saw the hunter."_

* * *

 _"This is where I saw him last," Malia said, crouching down in the leaves in the middle of the preserve, examining a badly hidden footprint. "I lost him after that, once I realized he could barely keep on my trail."_

 _Scott nodded, kneeling down next to her to examine the footprint. "Yeah, this hunter is definitely new. An experienced hunter would know how to do better than this."_

 _"So, if you're a new hunter, where would you go to try and find more werewolves? Or their hiding spots?" Malia questioned, looking over at Scott._

 _"Well, there's one place they might go look," he replied with a grim look on his face._

 _"The tunnels," Malia realized with a short nod. "Then come on, let's go."_

* * *

 _"I lost his scent," Malia huffed in frustration as they wound even deeper through the tunnels. "There's too many other smells down here."_

 _"Yeah, I don't hear any heartbeats, either," Scott replied, his brows furrowed in concentration as he walked next to her. "But something about this...doesn't seem right."_

 _Malia paused, glancing over at him. "What do you mean?"_

 _Scott stopped to face her. "I mean, this doesn't make any sense. If this hunter was such an amateur, we should have caught up to him by now. His scent wouldn't have just disappeared like that, or we'd be able to hear his heartbeat. It just seems..."_

 _"Too easy?" she questioned, with a raise of her eyebrows._

 _He nodded in reply. "Yeah, something about this seems off. I can't explain it, I just have a feeling that there's more to this than just a rookie hunter."_

 _"Like maybe this person is faking being a bad hunter?" Malia furrowed her brows in question. "Why would someone even bother to do that?"_

 _"I don't know," Scott shook his head, "but I think we need to find out."_

 _"Yeah, let's go," Malia nodded, turning to head further into the tunnels, when Scott suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him._

 _"No," he shook his head at her when she looked back at him in confusion, "not without back-up. I think we need to call Stiles and Lydia to help. Or at least let them know what's going on."_

 _"But that will take too much time," she shook her head in protest, pulling her arm out of his grip. "We don't have any phone signal down here, and by the time we get out of here and call them, it will be too late. The hunter will get away."_

 _Scott sighed, giving her a serious look. "I know, Malia, but it's too dangerous to keep going on our own. Until we know what's really going on here, we need their help."_

 _"But it's just one hunter, even if he isn't really as bad at hunting as he seems," she shot back impatiently,"and maybe he'll lead us to something else down here, so we know what's really going on. We can't let him get away now."_

 _"And what if he's leading us right into a trap?" he replied with a knowing look on his face. "We'd be walking right into it."_

 _Malia sighed heavily, an annoyed look on her face, but she knew Scott was right. "Okay, fine, let's go call them."_

 _Scott gave her a semi-amused look as they turned to head back out of the tunnels, when Malia suddenly froze, all of her senses on high alert. Scott kept walking, checking his phone for service, just in case, distracted and not immediately realizing that she had stopped. He was a few feet ahead of her before she spoke._

 _"Wait a second..."_

 _It was faint, but she had caught it. The hunter's scent, barely perceptible over the other smells in the tunnel, but she knew without a doubt that it was him._

 _"I got it! I got his scent!" she whispered furiously, turning on her heel and running deeper into the tunnels in the direction it was coming from._

 _"Malia, wait!" Scott called after her, and she could hear him running behind her, but she had already gotten a good head start, catching him by surprise. "Malia, we need to stay together! Wait!"_

 _But she was too far gone now, too determined to finish this thing, to find the lone hunter and figure out what was going on, to prove to Scott that they could do this on their own, and she ran even faster._

 _She turned around another corner in the tunnels, out of Scott's sight only for a brief moment, when she skidded to a stop, narrowing her eyes in confusion as she noted the source of the scent, flaring strong in her nostrils now._

 _The hunter's jacket, hung from the wall of the tunnel in front of her, right where the two tunnels broke off into four different directions, luring her directly to this spot._

 _Oh no._

 _All of her senses started flaring on high alert, and she started backing away, dread crawling up the back of her spine._

 _Scott was right. It was a trap._

 _"Looking for me?" a gruff voice suddenly echoed from the darkness of the adjoining tunnel, and she wheeled around to see not one, but an entire group of hunters, fully armed and weapons trained directly on her, and her heart lurched in fear._

 _She didn't understand, how she couldn't have known they were there, how she couldn't hear_ any _of their heartbeats, couldn't catch any scents besides the obvious one from the coat, and she knew immediately that there was a lot more going on here than just a new hunter._

 _Directly in the front of the group was the same hunter they had been tracking all along, the one she had spotted haphazardly following her in the woods, and it was obvious now that he wasn't an amateur at all. He had a shotgun of some sort, larger than anything she had ever seen before, with two oversized double barrels aimed directly at her._

 _Directly at her heart._

 _There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and Malia just froze like a deer in headlights, because she was wide-open in the large space where the four tunnels met, too far away from anything to hide behind, and she couldn't possibly hope to be faster than the bullet of a clearly professional werewolf hunter._

 _"Say goodnight, sweetheart," the hunter grinned cruelly, as the rest of them laughed, staring at her like the prey she was._

 _Malia closed her eyes, because there was nothing she could do, bracing herself as the gun went off, echoing painfully off the small space of the tunnels._

 _She felt a tremendous force hit her body, toppling her to the ground, rolling over and over until she came to a stop. She waited, waited for the burning, agonizing pain of the bullets to come, belatedly wondering that since she was dying, maybe that's why it didn't hurt...but nothing happened._

 _There was no pain, and someway, somehow, she was still alive._

 _She heard the hunters murmuring amongst themselves in the distance, but her head was too foggy from her hard fall, too confused at the moment to catch much of what they were saying._

 _"Come on boys, let's go," she heard one of them say. "We've done enough for now."_

 _She was vaguely aware of their footsteps shuffling away into the distance as they disappeared into the tunnels, leaving her for dead._

 _Malia slowly pried open her eyes, carefully testing all of her limbs as she slowly sat up, examining her body in both shock and confusion._

 _There was blood, a lot of it, coating the front of her shirt and jacket, and her eyes widened as she moved her hands up and quickly probed her chest and abdomen for the source, checking herself for wounds, and wondering why she still couldn't feel them. When she suddenly realized there was nothing there, no gunshot wounds to be found, that miraculously somehow she wasn't injured...she realized there was only one other possibility._

 _The blood wasn't hers._

 _Malia quickly turned her head to see Scott sprawled out face down on the tunnel floor a few feet away from her._

 _He wasn't moving._

 _The realization of what he had done, of what had happened, that he had quite literally thrown himself in the path of the hunter's bullets in order to save her, crashed down over her in a crushing wave._

 _"Scott!" she cried out in panic, scrambling up on her hands and knees and crawling over to him. She hesitated as she reached for him, afraid that he was dead, when she finally heard his heartbeat, although thready and weak, and she breathed out a heavy sigh of relief._

 _Her relief was short-lived._

 _She reached him and turned him over on his back, gasping in horror when she saw how bad things really were._

 _His entire front was covered in thick, oozing blood, both red and black in color, and she could see through his tattered shirt that he had multiple wounds on his chest and abdomen._

 _Whatever type of gun, type of weapon that hunter had used, hadn't been meant to leave any survivors. Malia couldn't believe that Scott was even alive at all._

 _Swallowing down the bile rising in her throat at the sight of how badly injured he was, she quickly pulled him haphazardly across her lap, shaking him roughly in her arms._

 _"Scott, can you hear me? Scott!"_

 _For a moment, nothing happened, and Malia could feel her panic rising, her eyes flashing blue. "Scott!"_

 _Somehow, against all logic, Scott's eyelids slowly fluttered, and he groaned in pain as he came back to awareness._

 _"...Malia?" he croaked in pain and confusion, blinking blearily up at her._

 _She huffed out a sigh of relief at seeing him awake again, despite how dire the circumstances were. "Yeah, Scott, it's me. You're okay, you're going to be okay."_

 _They both knew she was lying, but neither of them chose to address it._

 _"Malia...the hunters...c-could be back..." he bit out, coughing weakly, and her heartbeat skyrocketed in panic when she saw blood now flecking his lips. "You h-have...to go."_

 _"Just shut-up," she bit back at him, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not leaving you here, I'd never leave you, Scott, so just forget it."_

 _"Malia..." he tried uselessly to protest again, but she just cut him off._

 _"No," she told him firmly, hoping she sounded determined through her fear. "Now just stop talking and try to heal, okay?"_

 _He gave her a sad look, as if that wasn't possible, but she just ignored it, reaching for his wrist and taking his pain._

 _It was excruciating, like liquid fire racing up her arm, and she was only able to take part of it. She couldn't even imagine how badly Scott must feel._

 _But she wasn't going to lose him, she_ couldn't _lose him, not when he had pushed her out of the way, had taken a hit meant for her, had sacrificed himself for her._

 _When he meant this much to her...and she was only now realizing it, too little, too late._

 _"You idiot," she muttered, but there was no heat behind her words, looking down at him, "you shouldn't have done that, Scott, you shouldn't have pushed me out of the way..."_

 _"Sorry, 'Lia," he murmured, his glassy eyes trying to focus up at her face, but there was no apology in his voice, not for saving her life, because they both knew he'd make the same choice if given the chance again._

 _She just shook her head at him, wrapping her hand even tighter around his wrist, desperately hoping that she could take all of his pain somehow, because she deserved that, knew that they should be in reversed positions right now, and that thought suddenly overwhelmed her._

 _"Scott, just..." she trailed off, furiously blinking back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision, "just hang on, okay, you have to hang on..."_

* * *

She hastily brushed away her tears with the back of her hand, not knowing how she even had any tears left. "It's my fault, Stiles...this is all my fault."

"Hey, hey, hey, no it's not," Stiles said firmly, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. "This isn't your fault, Malia. The only person whose fault this is is the bastard hunter who actually pulled the trigger."

He paused, adding with a heavy sigh, "Or maybe it's Scott's fault for having such a hero complex all the time, but whatever, this wasn't your fault, Malia. You know that."

"No, I don't," she shook her head in protest, "if I hadn't convinced Scott to go down in the tunnels without any back-up, if I had just waited when he said to, if I had just listened to him..."

"Then what? The hunter would have gotten away? You would have been shot instead? Tell me, Malia, how are those scenarios any better? You can't blame yourself for this," Stiles cut her off with a serious look on his face.

"Besides," he added, giving her a knowing look, "Scott wouldn't blame you for this, and he sure as hell wouldn't want you to blame yourself. That's not going to help him pull through this, by the way. But you being there with him will."

Malia shot him a confused look, because she was starting to see a sort-of theme here, that everyone thought Scott needed her for some reason, and she was beginning to think that maybe, they were right.

"Okay," she nodded shakily, slowly standing up from the chair, "I'm ready to go back in there."

Stiles stood up next to her, patting her back in reassurance, a small smile on his face. "I thought you might say that."

* * *

Malia steeled herself as she walked back into the room, her heart clenching as she entered.

Deaton was at one of the nearby counters, mixing different solutions together and muttering furiously to himself, as Lydia stood next to him, combing through one of his many books that weren't _exactly_ veterinarian-related, reading him ingredients as he asked.

Melissa was in the middle of the room, fluttering between different medical equipment that was now set-up, monitoring all the different vitals that the machines were giving her, face tight and drawn with worry.

In the center of the room, Scott still lay, pale and motionless on the metal table, a hundred different wires coming out of him now, it seemed, from all of the medical equipment now monitoring his status. The oxygen mask was once again in place on his face, making him look even more broken and fragile, and Malia could barely stand the sight.

Scott was strong, and he never gave up, was always fighting back, and seeing him like this just seemed so _wrong_.

Melissa glanced up from one of the machines as they entered, a grim look on her face. "You okay?" she asked quietly, assessing Malia with worried eyes.

Malia was almost taken aback, because she didn't know how Melissa could be this kind, this forgiving towards her, when she was the one who had almost gotten her son killed.

"I, uh, yeah," she belatedly replied, hesitating in the doorway, "I'm fine."

Melissa shot her a doubtful look, but motioned for her to come closer. "Come on."

Malia glanced over at Stiles with an apprehensive look, and he nodded reassuringly. "It's okay, Malia. Scott would want you here."

He knew how guilty she felt over what had happened in the tunnels, and he gave her an encouaraging shove forwards. "Come on, talk to him."

"Talk to him?" Malia asked softly in confusion, coming closer to the table, swallowing thickly as she took in Scott's beaten and battered form on the table.

His chest and abdomen were heavily bandaged now, but Malia could still smell the blood, and the pain, knew that he still wasn't healing beneath the bandages, and she hesitated again.

"Talk to him," Melissa added then, coming closer and laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He needs to know that we're all here, that we're waiting for him to wake up." She paused, giving a small shrug as Malia stared back at her.

"Who knows, he might even hear us."

"...okay," Malia replied skeptically, but she moved forwards, once again gripping Scott's cool, clammy hand in her own and squeezing.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry about earlier," she slowly began, saying it just as much to Scott as to the others in the room, "that I ran out. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

Scott didn't move, didn't respond, not that Malia had really thought he would, but it still didn't hurt to hope.

Being around him, around this pack, had brought that out in her, had made her have hope in situations that the girl she was before, the coyote in her, would never have had.

"And I'm sorry Scott, I'm so so sorry," she continued, her voice cracking now, "about not listening to you, in the tunnels. This is all my fault, and I'm so sorry, you have to believe me..."

"Malia," Stiles protested, no less to reassure her for the hundredth time that it wasn't her fault that Scott had gotten hurt, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

"No, he needs to know."

Stiles nodded with a grim smile, taking a step back, and Malia pretended not to notice that Melissa, Deaton, and Lydia were all listening to her talk to Scott now too, busying themselves with checking vitals and making solutions.

"Scott, I don't know," she continued with a shaky breath, "if you can hear me, but if you can, please, give us a sign, anything, okay, so that we know that you're there. That you're still with us."

Still nothing.

Malia bit her bottom lip, subconsciously squeezing his hand again, wishing more than anything that he would squeeze back. "Scott, you have to keep fighting, okay? You're too strong to go down like this, and we need you, we all need you...more than you know."

She swiped with her free hand at her eyes, willing herself to not cry again, because she was _not_ that person, but almost losing Scott had brought about realizations that she hadn't had before, that she hadn't allowed to happen before, and she had never felt so lost in her life.

"Please Scott...come back to us."

There was a heavy silence in the room between them all, the weight and meaning of her words resonating loudly between them.

Malia sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping as she closed her eyes, fingers still intertwined tightly with his, as if she could indeed anchor him there with her like everyone else kept saying she could, for whatever reason.

And that's when it happened.

It was so small, so imperceptible at first, that Malia was sure that it had been her imagination, her foolish hope playing tricks on her.

But she could have sworn she felt one of Scott's fingers move against her hand.

Her eyes shot back open, and she stared down at their linked hands, not daring to hope, holding her breath as she squeezed his hand again and waited for a reaction.

This time, she knew for sure, without a doubt, what was happening. It wasn't a big movement, and it wasn't strong...but it was there.

Scott squeezed back.

* * *

 **Just a little cliffhanger for now...**


End file.
